


A Pill a Day, Does Not Keep the Doctor Away

by Caffinated_Story



Series: A Long Way to Recovery [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Other, and Mercy is not the type of person to ignore such things, if canon won't explain shit then I'll make sense of it on my own, radiation is serious business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-06 00:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11589363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffinated_Story/pseuds/Caffinated_Story
Summary: Mercy is used to seeing wounded people. She's also used to helping them.She is not used to people trying to help themselves - and she certainly don't appreciate them doing so with things stolen from her og dirty hands.





	A Pill a Day, Does Not Keep the Doctor Away

It hadn't taken her long to notice that things were disappearing from the Med bay.

Angela hadn't really cared when it was just small plasters, nor did she really mind when the thief(s) started taking bandages or gauze.  
She could even accept them swiping some of her sterile water.

But morphine? Needles? Syringes? Sutures?  
No. Those things where off the 'I can let it slide' list.

Angela was fuming.

Such things where not to be taken lightly, nor did she think anyone else should be using such things unsupervised by her. 

She had her suspicions of course.  
There weren't many people who'd steal from others at the base, but anything short of catching the thief red-handed or while using her medicine supplies would likely be like yelling at a wall.

So she locked everything even better up and smiled to herself when her stock no longer went missing so frequently.

Then she just waited patiently for the right moment to bust her thief in the act.

“Junkrat,” she said sternly as she found the pair of junkers sitting a little out of view from the testing range after a mission she knew had taken it's toll on everyone. Roadhog looked up at her and gave her a slight wave with a crudely bandaged arm, Junkrat was just finishing the last stitch on a gash on his stomach by himself and appeared to be in pretty deep concentration while doing so.

“G'day Doc,” Junkrat grinned as he tied the last stitch and cut the threat with a old knife, and Angela's hands twitched with anger and eagerness to scrub the young man clean with her strongest disinfectant. 

“Where did you find those sutures?” she said coolly and crossed her arms.

“Uhh,” Junkrat started biting at his bottom lip as his wide grin faltered. “Around...” he said with a half hearted shrug.

“Around my medical bay perhaps?”

“Uhh,” his gaze fell, switching back and forth between Roadhog and her own feet as he without doubt tried to think of a suitable lie.

“I also assume that if I check the serial number on that little vial of morphine,” she pointed to the little glass ampoule lying discarded in the grass by Junkrat's prosthetic foot. “Then it will match with the stock I have.”

“Eh, maybe?” he laughed and looked up at her with a grin, that immediately faltered the moment he met her stern glare.

“I'm disappointed in you both,” Angela hissed, momentarily moving her gaze from Junkrat to Roadhog – who immediately moved his head to gaze the opposite direction. “If you get hurt you come to me,”

“It's just some small stuff,” Junkrat frowned. “Nothing fer a doc to worry about,”

“You've sutured yourself up,” Angela sighed and pointed an accusatory finger at Junkrat's abdomen. “With dirty hands no less?”

“To be fair I licked 'em before starting,” Junkrat let out a sound that sounded like a nervous giggle.

“Oh my god,” Angela gritted her teeth as Roadhog's muffled laugh sounded under his mask.

“Ey, have some Mercy on us, won't ya?” Junkrat laughed. “We've been doing this for years, right Hog?”

Roadhog made a grunt in acknowledgement.

“Well, you are now under my care and I will not be having any more of this nonsense. Get up and get yourself to the Med Bay,” she pointed at the base and glared at them both. “I will not have you two get any infections before a new mission.”

“All right, all right,” Junkrat grumbled and stood up, Roadhog slowly following.

Angela picked up the discarded morphine ampoule before marching behind them, shooing them both into the Med bay with a stern look.

“Sit,” she commanded and both men did as told, albeit with some hesitation.  
“My medical records on you are as good as non-existent, I believe I should change that here and now,” she said as she brought up their files on her tablet.

“What?” Junkrat said, voice hitching slightly in his throat as he looked at her worriedly. “That wasn’t the deal!”

Roadhog made a sound that Angela figured was a laugh, because Junkrat shot him a dirty look and swore at him.

“Hog too, right?” Junkrat asked.

“No, he did his check up the second week of arriving here, so I have almost all I need there,” Angela smiled softly at Roadhog who gave her a small nod and the thumbs up.

“Fucking traitor,” Junkrat hissed at him. “Betraying me? Like this? Some shitty fucking bodyguard ya are,”

Roadhog turned and looked at Junkrat through the black glass of his mask.  
“Been here two months. 'Bout time,” he grumbled at him.

“Now now, it's nothing to fear,” Angela smiled. “First, Roadhog, mind if I re-bandage that arm?” she gestured to the crude bandage job on his right arm and Roadhog replied with a gruff 'yeah'.

The wound below was little more than a few superficial grazes, some cleaning of the skin and a clean bandage meant Angela was quickly satisfied with the result.  
“Next time, come see me. Don't just do it yourself or let him do it. Especially no without clean hands,”

“Sure,” Roadhog replied and Junkrat sank further down in his seat with a scowl.

“Never complained about my dirty hands before,” he grumbled to himself.

“Yeah I did,” Roadhog replied gruffly.

“Ya did?”

“Yes,”

“Oh,” Junkrat grimaced and scratched his head.

“See ya later Rat,” Roadhog slapped Junkrat's back so hard he almost fell off his seat before laughing to himself as he walked out the door.

“I hate that guy,” Junkrat hissed under his breath.

“Your turn,” Angela smiled as she put on a pair of gloves. “I need to take a look at your stitch work,”

Junkrat sneered but let her clean the gash properly. His sutures weren't half bad, but Angela still undid them to ensure his dirty hands hadn't done more damage than good. He had stitched far too deep some places and far too superficially in others, had it been left alone he'd end up with an uneven and likely rather ugly scar.

Finishing the sutures up and placing a nice and clean bandage on top; Angela went to wash her hands while Junkrat continued cursing Roadhog for 'betraying him'.

Angela sighed and pretended not to hear him, opting instead to scan her records as to where she should begin.  
She had his height – police records had given her that much already, but she didn't really trust the weight she'd been given.

“Let's start with something easy,” she smiled. “We'll weigh you with and without your prosthetics,”

“Whatever,” Junkrat grimaced, but did as told.

Angela noted the weight down.  
“70 kilos with prosthetics,” she mumbled to herself as Junkrat began removing his metal limbs.  
That really didn't bode well given the weight of the prosthetics as they clanked to the floor.

Her suspicions proved her right. With some calculation to make up for his loss of real limbs Mercy gathered Junkrat's weight should have sat at around 60-65 kg if he was still all flesh and bone.

“You are on the low end of the scale, so it won't hurt you to eat more actually,” she said, slight twinge of worry in her voice. “You burn a lot more energy when walking with a prosthetic, so you really could use some extra calories,”

“Don't haf'ta tell me twice to do that,” Junkrat laughed and licked his lips, looking like he had every plan to make a run for the kitchen at any given moment.

“Well, while your prosthetics are off, mind if I take an x-ray to have a look at your stumps?”

Junkrat grimaced and made noises of protest, but Angela got him to lie still for just long enough for some clear pictures by giving him a lollipop.  
She wasn't actually expecting that type of bribery to work, but it did – much to her delight.  
Angela noted it down for future reference should she need him to come back for other tests in the future.

However, her good mood faltered when the x-rays came back.

“Junkrat?” her voice held more worry than question.

“Yeah?” he replied as he started trying to get his metal limbs back on.

“Who performed your amputations?”

“Some old dude in Junkertown,” Junkrat said and pointed to his arm stump. “And did this one mostly myself,” he smiled maniacally as he pointed to the leg.

“Yourself?” Angela took a sharp intake of air and looked back at the x-ray of his leg.  
The bone certainly hadn't been cut clean off, nor had anyone taken the time to file it down, so it was somewhat ragged.

“Yeah,” Junkrat shrugged, staring intently at his stump. 

“Would you mind telling me what exactly happened?” Angela took a seat across from him, and Junkrat regarded her for a moment. 

“Stepped on a trap,” he finally muttered, using his good hand to mimic a bear trap.  
“My ankle was just fucked, didn't think I had a chance ta' save it, so I tied it up and crawled along till I found a saw to cut it off,”

Angela’s eyes were wide, and she wanted nothing more than to give him a hug.  
“You, you sawed the bone yourself?” she was horrified, but also impressed.

“Yeah, who else?” Junkrat snorted. 

“How far up did you amputate it then?”

“First time or second time?” he grinned at her and Angela made a mental note to not let anyone underestimate the survivability of the junkers.

“Second time I suppose will suffice for now,” she cleared her throat as she jotted the information down,

“I dunno,” Junkrat shrugged. “About five fingers below the knee?” he held up his hand and narrowed his eyes before nodding. “Yeah. 'Bout five fingers,”

“I see,” Angela noted it all down. “But you are now an above the knee amputee...” she didn't have to ask the rest of the question.

“Stepped on a mine,” Junkrat laughed. “Wasn't even one of my own. That kinda hurt more than the leg,” he laughed and then rubbed his stump slowly, eyes focusing on the scarred tissue.

Angela was horrified.  
However, the butchered amputations times three did explain something.

“From a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being no pain and 10 being the worst pain imaginable, how much pain are you in when walking?”

Junkrat scratched his chin, eyes darting back and forth in the room as he pondered the question.  
“A 8?” he said somewhat uncertain.

Angela regarded him for a moment before standing up and retrieving his prosthetic leg.  
“Tell me, can you walk upright with this on?”

“I can,” Junkrat grimaced. “But hurts pretty fucking bad. And my balance is sometimes pretty shit when upright. Better not to.”

“I'm not surprised,” Angela sighed worriedly. “The bone is far too close to the skin. You don't have adequate cushioning between the bone and the skin. Nor is it filed down properly, so you have some sharp fragments still left,” she gave him a worried look. “This is something we could help you with, if you want of course.”

“Nah,” Junkrat grimaced as he strapped his leg back on. “I'm good,”

“I find that somewhat hard to believe,” Angela jotted down some more notes without looking at her tablet. 

“I ain't getting under the knife,” Junkrat gritted his teeth and scowled at her.

“And I will not force you,” Angela offered him a polite but warm smile. “But I do want to help,”

“Don't need help. Managed on me own so far,” Junkrat spat.

“And I am very impressed at that, believe me,” Angela stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the dirt and dust that clung to him. “But I'd like to help, that's what I'm here for.”

“Well your fancy stuff won't make the cut,” he mumbled and brushed her hand off him with a frown.

“Oh?” Angela would be offended at his comment, but she'd seen what he constructed out of discarded junk – it was likely some truth to the comment.

“Do ya test your little gadgets against sand, acid rain, radiation, high impacts,” Junkrat listed each item off on his fingers. “And can ya fix em while on the move in a radiation hurricane?”

“Two out of four at least,” Angela replied. “Radiation and Acid rain are not exactly things that we encounter much off...” she made a mental note to check everyone for radiation poisoning later. “And no,” she sighed. “I doubt our prosthetics can easily be fixed unless back at our labs.”

“Well these beauties have survived all that,” Junkrat said with a grin and clanked his metal hand against his metal leg with a laugh. “And then some more,” his laughter continued and his smile took a slightly dangerous turn.

“Undoubtedly,” Angela nodded, making some more notes in his file. “Speaking off radiation... are you feeling better since leaving the Outback?”

“'Course we are,” Junkrat snorted. “Better food. Nice beds. No need for drinking stale water any more makes a difference ya know?”

“Yes, that would certainly help a lot of things,” she nodded. “However, I was more thinking along the lines of radiation poisoning...”

“Oh, right,” Junkrat bit the inside of his cheek, chewing absent-mindedly in silence.

“Do you know the symptoms?” Angela asked softly.

“Sure, hair loss,” he ran his good hand through the tufts of blonde hair, pulling out a handful of strands with ease. “Then there's the bleeding and chunderin'. Nasty way to die,” he shuddered slightly, hoping Mercy didn't notice. “Better to off yerself before it happens,” he mumbled.  
“But we're poppin' Blue so it'll be fine,”

“Blue?” Angela paused.

“Yeah,”

“As in Prussian Blue?” 

“That' the one,” Junkrat grinned.

“I see...” Angela noted it down; while it was still a somewhat effective radiation drug back in the 2000's, she knew it was far from ideal by today’s standards. “Are you still taking these tablets?”

“'Course I am,” he scoffed at her question as if it was simply idiotic to assume otherwise. “Those salt tables do fuck all once yer out there. 'Sides, not like you can give yourself Diet bags easily in the Outback,”

Angela paused and gave him a quizzical look.  
“Diet bags?” 

“Yeah,” Junkrat waved his prosthetic arm lazily at her. “Diet bags, ya kno?”

“No, I am unfamiliar with that terminology...” Angela frowned. 

“Aw shit,” Junkrat pulled lightly at his hair and scrunched his face up as he tried to remember the proper name. “Hog's better at the names,” he mumbled as he scratched his head. “DTAP?” he said uncertainly.

“Oh!” Angela's face lit up. “You're talking about DTPA!” a slight sigh of relief escaped her, while outdated she was at least familiar with this type of drug. 

“Yeah that's the one,” Junkrat laughed.

“But how you get Diethylenetriamine pentaacetate to become 'Diet bags' is a small linguistic mystery,” she smiled at him and let a small laugh escape as she noted it down.

“Nah, shorten the first word and then it's best given in a bag, right? So Diet bag!”

“That is... true,” Angela had to admit that was at least somewhat sound argument for the nickname. “Have you ever had a treatment of DTPA?”

“Yeah once or twice or whatever,” Junkrat shrugged. “When we could nick it from some suits,” he spat the last word out with disdain. 

“Well, I'll draw up a better treatment plan for you, more modern medicine and a frequent tests will help a lot more than just the tablets you have been 'popping',” Angela smiled.

“Fine, fine,” Junkrat just shrugged.

He didn't seem too interested in a proper plan, but Angela wasn't going to let him wander about the base like a beacon of radioactive material for any longer than he already had been.  
Undoubtedly the Junkers had their own way of treating radiation exposure. She had heard about the raids the Junker gangs would do towards the more 'civilized' cities, and hospitals where frequently a target.  
Perhaps that was why such old medicine was still in circulation in Australia. Better to lose something less effective than let them get things that actually would help them.  
Angela shuddered at the thought. How someone could just push so many people away and not offer them any help was simply inhumane. 

Junkrat's hatred for 'suits' was probably fairly justified.

“Have you had any blistering or redness on your skin?” Angela inquired, trying to see if she could spot any signs of sloughing of his skin from under the layers of dirt.

“Ha,” he appeared to almost topple off his seat. “If ya ain’t got some red skin then ya ain’t in the fucking Outback. Not like we've got those fancy screening shit you've all got,”

Angela tapped her fingers anxiously against her tablet. With so much sunshine and radiation she could very well imagine that their solution was just to.... cover themselves in dirt.  
An awful though. Angela noted down on her supply list that none of the junkers would be allowed to leave base again without sunscreen ever again.

With such harsh conditions, surely some horrors would be lurking under the layers of dirt. If she strained her eyes she was sure she could see scars that would fit the clinical presentation of sloughing. 

Just how much radiation had they been exposed to?  
Roadhog had cooperated with the check-up, but not offered much insight in what he'd lived through in the Outback beyond rudimentary facts she already knew from official Australian reports.

Junkrat was bobbing his legs up and down now, boot and peg leg tapping hard against the floor as his eyes darted back and forth in the room.

“I'll have to run some more tests, preferably some blood tests too,” Angela punched in some reminders to herself. “You have been exposed to far more radiation than anyone else I've ever met, and you appear to be remarkably well despite of this.”  
She refrained from mentioning that she'd fully expect the pair to be dead with such high levels that she assumed they had been exposed to.

“Hehehee,” Junkrat laughed and grinned wickedly at her. “Survival of the fittest, right?” he stuck his tongue out, flicking it against his gold tooth.

“Indeed,” Angela nodded courtly. 

“So we done?” Junkrat stood up, momentarily stretching to full height before immediately resuming his hunched over and slouched stance.

“Well,” Angela glanced at her still awfully incomplete records. “I suppose we can continue another day,” she sighed.

“Continue,” Junkrat spat and gave a slight shudder. “Don't see why. I'm fit as a fiddle,” 

“Everyone does routine check ups here. Especially when wounded,” Angela placed her tablet down and crossed her arms, hoping to somehow either convince him or scare him to listen to her advice. “So you will just have to get used to coming back,”

“Shesh,” Junkrat grimaced. “I will if ya stop glaring,” 

“So no more playing doctor on yourself?”

“Urrrrgggh, fine,” he scowled. 

“No more stealing from my medicine cabinets?”

“But-”

“No, no excuses. Promise me; no more stealing,”

“Fiiiiiine,” Junkrat whined. “But what if I get hurt in the field?”

“Then you call for help,”

“And what if I'm too far away?”

“Then,” Angela sighed. “Then you are allowed to do whatever you can to stay alive,”

“Though so,” Junkrat laughed and rubbed his chin as he flashed her a wide grin.

“That said,” Angela smiled softly. “Seeing as I don't think I can stop you from patching yourself up, how about I teach you how to do it properly?”

Junkrat's smile faltered into a serious expression as he stared at her, eyes lingering on her face for longer than she really felt was necessary.

“Really?” his voice sounded unsure, like he fully expected her to take it back. He wrung his hands together, metal fingers clicking together as he appeared to bend them manually with his good hand in a nervous gesture. “Yer not just, pulling my good leg?”

“I'm serious,” Angela flashed him a warm smile. “You have clearly some skills from staying alive with such traumatic injuries, so perhaps it would be for the best if I teach you some safer and better methods, don't you agree?”

“Well, sure, I mean, yeah?” Junkrat shrugged.

“Good, drop by tomorrow then around 11 and I will have a plan laid out for you,” Angela laughed softly and tossed him a piece of candy, clapping her hands together as he caught it with his metal hand. “Good reflexes,” she winked and made a note on her tablet.

“Is everythin' gonna be a test?” 

“Not everything, just some,” she reassured him. “And we'll probably get you some new clothes,”

“What? Not clean enough?” Junkrat grimaced, eyeing the piece of candy before popping it into his mouth.

“I think they can both stand on their own and light up a room with the amount of radiation they contain,” Angela sighed.

“Meh,” Junkrat shrugged.

“Think about it at least?”

“Sure,” he shrugged again before giving her a half-hearted wave. 

“See you tomorrow then Junkrat,” Angela waved back at him.

“Later Doc,” he mumbled as he halfway hobbled out the door.

Angela sighed deeply, immediately getting to leaning up her work space.  
She had no intention of having her medical bay contaminated any more than it needed.

Perhaps if she asked nicely, Roadhog could help toss Junkrat into a shower tomorrow.  
And perhaps, with enough bribery, she could convince them she was there to help them mend.

Angela smiled a little to herself as she made some more notes to herself.

Better than expected.  
Even if he had stolen more bandages when she was washing her hands.

With a sigh she counted to ten before starting restocking the shelves.

Small steps.  
Progress was gradual.

They'd get there in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Australian accents are hard to write. Sorry if it's weird! I tried my best while trying to make it readable...
> 
> Annyway! Hello my name is Coffee and I'm an orthopaedic nurse...  
> I won't lie, filling out the gaps of fictional characters medical history is my 'guilty' pleasure. Also I legit did do some maths to make up for his missing limbs, because I assume his weight given in canon is with his prosthetics and not without - since it was a 'police' report and tbh police usually don't give a shit about accurate weight. 
> 
> Also did you know you know you use 70-80% more energy walking with an above the knee prosthetic and 50% more walking with a below the knee one? Yes? No? Come talk to me either way :D


End file.
